


{dance with me across the ocean blue}

by without_wings (liam22)



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liam22/pseuds/without_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Undone and Illicit for the Porn Battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	{dance with me across the ocean blue}

Kiss him anyways. In this room, it doesn't matter what anyone says. This time is for you two alone. Your hair curls wildly in the summer heat, clinging to your forehead in damp curls as he presses you back against 1000-thread count sheets. But all of his luxurious romantic trappings of the day can't hide the fact that the city air seems more humid than it felt even at home.

Get lost in the lies. They float over your skin, hot and heady without you truly believing them, much like the whisper kisses he is leaving on the inside of your thighs. You swears he comes home for this alone - he never stays in one place for long and who would come to see Angela. And, eww…no more thinking of your grandmother while his tongue is sliding closer and closer to where you really want it. 

Pull him up and silence him with your lips. It's easier to get lost in this thing you shouldn't be doing when he's not saying a word. The press of his tongue against your sends uneven jolts through you, like flats and sharps in a Russian ballet. Even without your tutu and toe shoes, you're ready for the next act. 

Neither his hands nor yours can keep still on one another. But with such limited time, why even bother. His chest against yours feels more well defined than you remember. And raking your fingernails down his back only spurs him on to kiss you harder. He makes the most wonderful noises. Nobody has ever said your name quite like that. Like this, it's easy to forget. 

Stare back into his eyes. He whispers your name like a prayer as he enters you, and then it's all words of love and beauty. Typical really. His hands trace the line of your spine and you can't help but feel like the most special person in the world. Even if it is just for today. You want to remember this moment. You'll need something to get you through the nights without him. 

His hands caress you, touching, practically memorizing, every piece of skin they can reach. They never stay in one place for long. He's completely intoxicating. Just being around him normally makes it hard to think. But when he's doing this, well that's just something else entirely. His touch leaves you feeling unsteady in the overdramatic way that can only be associated with forbidden love. 

So hold your breath and jump right on in. You've come too far now. The sins are already stacked up against you. Another reason why you could never truly be. The wrongness of it all would eat at him, until there was nothing left but bitter self-loathing. You, well, your more open. Why should silly social rules apply to the immortal. 

You build up that familiar rhythm, in and out, slow then quick quick. You can tell that he's close by his movement alone. He's hitting spots that you swear never existed with your other partners. And just like that, you're right there with him, walking on the edge. 

And when he says "come with me", you know he means now, and not really. He'd never actually take you with him. "It's too dangerous", he always says. But you know a cock and bull story when you hear it. Heroes save the world and get the girls - and he seems to be making up for lost time now that he's on track to win the UN's most heroic award. 

Of course, you're not really thinking of this now. The pleasure is building, threatening to take over, and why fight it. He's certainly not. You come undone, stars in your eyes and his name on your lips. Afterwards, when you're still tender, pleasantly abuzz with the residual sparks, curling up curling up in his arms seems like the only thing you still have the inclination for. He's always been big on pillow talk and his waves of pretty words wash over you as sleep beckons.

He's not there when you wake up.

He never stays in one place for long.


End file.
